BtVS: Return to Power
by Huntervf
Summary: A continuation of the BuffyVerse. Nine years after Sunnydale, something is wrong with the Slayers and evil knows it. Buckle up, this is a LONG WIP that features the characters you know and love, plus a few new ones.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: My first submission :) Reviews and **constructive** criticism welcome! Buckle up... this is just the 1st chapter of a very long ride with all your favorite BtVS characters and a few new ones. Enjoy! _-CH

_Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the product of Joss Whedon, not I. I don't own any sort of rights whatsoever to BtVS or these characters, nor do I write/post this story for anything more than the sheer, non-profitty fun of it all. Should anyone wish to make their own tale based from my bits here, feel free. Just make sure you credit me for the idea, Joss for everything else and don't make a penny off it :) _

_Synopsis: Something is happening to the slayers, and evil knows it. In the face of waning power, the slayers valiantly take the fight to a new dark power that has risen, all the while trying to learn the true origins of their power so they can reclaim their strength. But the forces of evil sense the weakness; they know the time to strike is now and they don't hold back...  
_

_Cleveland._

Well, specifically Eastlake, but still, close enough for her to get a whiff of Lake Erie combined with industrialized smog. She'd been there before, but this time the smell was just _bad_, reminiscent of rotting fish being grilled over a coal fire. Of course, it had been three years since she was stateside. Maybe she just forgot what American industry smelled like.

"And people think Southern California's all smelly," she said, stepping out of her X brand rental car, face twisting up in disgust at the odor.

Across the street was the pseudo hospital she'd come to visit; little more than a converted school in a quiet part of town, but the Slayer's Council specialized in low key. Granted, a complete hospital for a single unit was a bit much even for the Council, but this was one of the bigger units, and Cleveland was certainly one of the rougher trouble spots in the world.

And the world was certainly changing for the worse. Just how worse would depend on the intel she gained from this unexpected visit.

The noises of urban Ohio surrounded her as her boots clicked across the damp, gloomy pavement. Cars, trains, jets, thunder. It was quite warm and humid for a mid April night; a spring thunderstorm had rolled through as she approached the outskirts of town and the lightning still danced in the distance. Her own thoughts mirrored that dance; everything from omens to myths, apocalyptic warnings, anything and everything she'd read about Gaia and balance. _Everything's connected,_ she thought, mentally hearing the words in Giles's British twang. She sensed something different about this assignment from the beginning though; something dark on the horizon and something even darker that she somehow felt responsible for. In the nine years since the destruction of Sunnydale she'd left behind her fears and doubts about her abilities. She'd learned to follow her instincts, to trust them. Yet as she approached the front door to the Council's secret hospital, her instincts were screaming at her from all different directions, most of them telling her to run away.

Then again, seeing an old flame could sometimes have that effect.

She stopped at the door, catching her reflection in the darkened glass. Hair, makeup, blouse, slacks, all check. And then she focused on the top button of her blouse, clasped shut. _Oh no,_ she thought, suddenly panic stricken, stomach in her throat. _This could be a disaster!_ _To button or unbutton? Unbutton? How many? All business or kinda sexed up? A little eye candy or slutsville? _For several agonizing seconds she stood frozen, facing an unknown quantity and scared silly over it. Finally she gave in to the buttoned format; a throwback to her conservative self and a reminder that she was definitely in town for business, and the stakes were too damned important to risk a carnal trip down memory lane from a gratuitous flash of cleavage.

She casually tossed the front door open, fiery red hair catching the breeze and whipping majestically through the air, hazel green eyes sparkling in the dark. There may have even been a little magick involved with it... she'd grown to love making a jaw dropping entrance and sometimes when she was trying to impress, magick just... happened.

_Of all the places in the world,_ she thought as she surveyed the surroundings. The hospital staff—caught unaware—acknowledged her presence with immediate recognition and quick snaps to attention. _All the places in the world, and Kennedy has to pick the crumbiest urban hellmouth around for her assignment. _

"Willow?"

Kennedy sat bolt upright, despite the heft of the bandages around her midsection. If there was pain associated with the movement she didn't show it.

Willow turned to the doctor who'd led her to Kennedy's room and dismissed him, then slowly pivoted back to regard the raven haired slayer, a thin, meek smile spreading from cheek to cheek as she took an awkward seat by the bed.

"Hey," she said clumbsily. "How are ya?"

_Dumb, Willow. Really dumb._

"What are you doing here?" spoke Kennedy, her eyes nearly as big as her jaw-dropped mouth.

Willow stuttered for a moment, completely frazzled by the meeting which she'd been imagining in her head for the past week.

"Well... I-I; Giles thought it was best if I came out here. Talk to you myself, see what happened."

Kennedy didn't miss a beat. She locked eyes with Willow.

"Now why don't I think that's the whole story?"

Willow's head was spinning, and suddenly she was back at Sunnydale High, facing down Harmony or trying to get Xander to notice her.

"Well... I uh..."

She resisted the urge to magically dip into Kennedy's thoughts and studied her eyes instead. They were fierce, full of confusion and pain, but also of love.

_C'mon girl, pull it together._

"Yeah, well... I wanted to come too," she said finally, digging deep for a confidence boost. "It's important to figure out what's happening, a-and...well... I _wanted_ to be the one to, ah... be the one."

Kennedy accepted the answer for what it was. Her gaze softened a touch and she carefully leaned back into her reclined hospital bed.

"So you wanted to come," she spoke in a gentle voice tinged with the physical pain of her injuries. "It's nice to know that you wanted to see me. Really. But did you ever consider that I didn't want to see you?"

It had been three years since their breakup, but the words still tore at Willow's heart.

"Kennedy, please. I didn't come here to open old wounds-"

"Well yeah," said Kennedy laughing, holding the heavily bandaged section near her waist. "Cause you know, I'm doing just fine in the wounds department..."

Willow was teetering between a familiar, Kennedy-Willow combination of hurt and anger, but resolved to not let this meeting turn into a disaster.

"Look, if you want me to leave, I'll leave. I call Giles, tell him to send someone else."

Silence filled the room for the briefest of moments, and Willow thought she saw a touch of regret in Kennedy's big brown eyes. She moved a little closer to the bed, found her confident voice and continued:

"When we heard what happened—when _I_ heard what happened—I knew it was time to seriously start looking into the slayers as a whole. But I was also scared to death for _you_."

Kennedy toughened back up a bit, but not quite enough to conceal the kindness ebbing inside her.

"Well, I'll be fine," she said, pouting lips and all.

Willow flashed a weak smile. "Yeah, I know you will. And despite what happened, between us, all of that, well... it's not like I stopped caring about you, or worrying about you."

"I know Will, we've been through this already." As Kennedy spoke, resentment brewing from the past three years finally pushed its way to the surface. "I know the story 'cause hey, heard it before. 'Kennedy I love you but you're dangerous. Kennedy I love you but I you're too reckless. Kennedy, you mean so much to me, but I can't stay with you." Loved me so much but I was too flawed for you. So hey, thanks for the _kind _words."

Willow stood up and bolted for the door, anger and pain replacing guilt and sorrow. She'd hoped three years had been enough time. She should've known better, and now their personal problems were interfering with the bigger issue at hand.

"I'm sorry Kennedy. This was a bad idea, I'm glad you're ok, but I'll get someone else—"

"No Willow, no. Don't leave. I'm sorry."

Two words Willow often said but seldom heard, and no two words could've grabbed her harder. She turned to face Kennedy; eyes listening to every word her ex said.

"Look-- I don't-- I mean... you caught me by surprise here! Give me a little something Red." Kennedy's voice was cracking ever so slightly, alternating between frustration and confusion. "We've hardly talked in three years... and the way it all ended; I mean, it just hit hard you know? I'm still trying to figure it out." 

"Me too," said Willow in a tone sad enough to make tears cry.

The two strongest women in the world shared a long overdue moment of hopeful silence for their lost relationship. It had been a rough three years all around, but both women knew it was time to step beyond the differences that shook them apart. Kennedy understood just as well as Willow that there was a definite reason for her unexpected visit aside from mending fences. Not wanting to continue the emotional hurricane, Kennedy made the first move towards the business at hand as Willow returned to her bedside seat.

"I'm not sure what's going on Will. I shouldn't have taken this hit."

Willow secretly agreed, but moved on to her planned speech anyway.

"Well, I mean, these things happen. I remember back in Sunnydale when a vamp got the better of Buffy. Wasn't a super vamp, just a vamp."

Kennedy shook her head.

"This is different though. He didn't really get the better of me or anything. It's like he was just... I don't know... _faster_ than I was. Stronger even. No... not stronger than me. Like I was _weaker _than him."

Willow looked worried. It wasn't the first time she'd seen or heard this from a slayer in recent months. Many of the younger, less experienced slayers were getting injured and even killed in the line of duty, falling victim to seemingly run of the mill foes. But to hear the same thing from the Council's number one slayer...

"How do you feel now?"

"Anxious," said Kennedy almost immediately. "A little pissed off. And actually, kinda naughty. Seeing you isn't just bringing back _bad_ memories you know."

Kennedy threw her trademark sly grin to Willow, and suddenly she regretted leaving those buttons on her blouse alone.

"I mean, how are you feeling, health wise," returned Willow, face nearly as red as her hair.

Kennedy took a few moments to consider the question while prodding the deep stab wound above her left hip. She shook her head.

"Something isn't right, unless it's just a fact of life for an aging slayer. I've been laying in this hospital for a week; I feel tired and the hole in my side isn't even close to healing yet. And the patrols, they've been getting harder for awhile now."

Willow closed her eyes. This wasn't good.

"Well, if it makes you feel better I don't think it's just you. Rona's unit down in Brazil lost three slayers a couple weeks ago."

"_Three?_ At one time? Why wasn't I told? Was there a major uprising or something?"

Willow shook her head no.

"And that's not all. One of the newbies is still layed up, full of cuts and bruises that aren't healing any better than yours. And she's only 17. Certainly not facing middle aged slayer-dom."

This time the silence had nothing to do with mending fences. Both women sensed something unprecedented was happening to the slayer line, and if something wasn't done soon there wouldn't _be_ a slayer line.

Willow reached for Kennedy's smooth hand, and for an instant their painful breakup, the arguments, the disagreements, the endless battles, the past three years of barely a sentence between them, none of it existed. For an instant they were just Kennedy and Willow; full of life, love and power... ready to take on the world.

But it was only for an instant, a snapshot in time. Willow brought them back to reality.

"Kennedy, I-I don't know exactly what's happening, not yet. But I'm going to find out."

"Will, I think we both already _know_ what's happening. You don't have to pretend with me."

Willow locked eyes with Kennedy, and within them she saw something she'd never seen before: fear

"I'm not pretending," she said, still struggling to actually come out and say it. "What I-I mean is, I'm going to find out why..."

She let the sentence trail off, too upset at what it meant not only for Kennedy but the entire world.

Even Kennedy, the hardest, toughest, most brash slayer of the bunch couldn't bring herself to admit that she—and the entire slayer line—were apparently losing their powers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapt. 2.: BtVS: Return to Power**

_Author's note_

_Apologies to all for the delay in this chapter. I was working very hard on taking the exposition here and keeping it interesting; turned out to be a little tougher than I planned. From here on out I will attempt to update once a week. Thanks!_

_-Huntervf _

"Will we ever lose our power?"

Andrew Wells brought forth a deliberate look of concentration to the reasonably pretty, brunette slayer who'd asked this seemingly simple question. It was mostly an act of course; she did speak with a thick Spanish accent so it was a little harder to understand her, but he was also giving another commanding performance for his classroom of recently discovered slayers who'd been brought to the Council's main complex in London. Andrew's knack for public performance combined with his non-threatening demeanor had proven to be the perfect combination for initiating the often confused and occasionally violent newcomers to the Slayer's Council. And yet, in the five years he'd spent in the role he preferred to call "Orientation Specialist", he'd never actually been asked this question before. _Fascinating_, he thought, bemused at the irony behind the timing of this most basic of questions for a slayer. His left eyebrow raised slightly, and for a moment he forgot all about the question and instead found himself flashing back to some of his favorite space based science fiction.

"That's a very good question, my young apprentice" he said, continuing his sci-fi fantasy a little longer. Though Andrew had long ago become a valued and respected member of the Slayer's Council, he still fancied a little role playing, especially when he was nearing the end of a class and things were getting a little dull.

"A very good question indeed, for we live in exciting times, and the future for the slayer line is being written even as I speak."

Andrew's voice dripped with drama as he checked the clock on the far wall of the X-Files style classroom. He had precious little time left in the session, and Giles had been quite clear about not discussing the current slayer situation to the newest of the chosen.

"And to help answer that question, I think now would be the perfect time for a little slayer background."

He kept his gaze forward for a moment, surveying the 20 or so newcomers seated before him. They ranged from ages 12 to 23; shy Sunday school girls to rough and tumble urban delinquents. In the nine years since Willow unlocked the slayer's power, chosen girl after chosen girl had been brought into the council. Indeed, there had been many more potential slayers than the original Watcher's Council had been aware of, and new slayers were gaining their power each day. Slayer identification and acquisition had become a major portion of the council's efforts, and though extensive tests had been run to try and identify potentials there was no discernable pattern to the awakenings of a slayer; no age limit, no specific mindset... as far as they could tell one day a girl would simply just wake up with super powers. Some girls wanted that power; some didn't. In the end it didn't matter; they all needed an orientation to what they were. Those who decided to accept their role as a slayer were welcomed into the Slayer's Council; those who wanted a regular life were monitored closely and in some cases medically and/or magically treated to remove or reduce their power. It certainly kept the council on their toes; and for the five years since this orientation program began each quarterly class was essentially the same: a room full of sassy, fire breathing girls who were usually confused and royally pissed off at being plucked from their otherwise normal lives.

This time however, things were different. The room was barely a third full, and the girls weren't nearly as feisty as their predecessors. Andrew made a mental note of this fact; yet another indication that something was wrong with the slayer line.

He finally whipped around and stationed himself at the chalkboard, where he began to scribble a rudimentary time line.

"Usually I save this information for our second session, but I'll touch on some of the basics here today since you're such a special class."

He spoke with a friendly smile and the happy go lucky banter that he was known for, but it was all an act. As he worked the chalk he focused his mind on a special ability that Willow called _mind dipping_; a quick mental "scan" of a crowd to help ascertain the emotional state of the people you're reaching out to. She'd taught him a few things over the years, but with his first contact position this little trick was invaluable in helping to identify potential trouble makers or even rogue slayers. Typically he would sense some confusion and a lot of anger, but this time he picked up on one thing: Fear. A lot of fear, and it made him very uneasy. And then, as he was bringing his mindscape back to normal he felt a little jolt; nothing major but definitely something out of the ordinary. He had no idea what it was; he'd never felt anything like this during his previous mind dips, and as best he could figure it was like someone pushing on the sides of his head for a split second. Not extremely painful, just a damned strange sensation. He was the perpetual actor however, so he continued on with his history lesson as if nothing happened.

"You see, in the beginning there weren't hundreds upon hundreds of slayers, there was only one. One girl in all the world to battle the forces of darkness, and for thousands of years this is how the battle was fought. One slayer with the power, and when she died, that power went to another chosen one who continued the fight. That's the way it was for thousands of years, and the power of the slayer and the line of the chosen one endured."

As he spoke his hands attacked the chalk board, trying to keep up with the pace of his speech. His chalkwork ended with the letters SD, written bigger than anything else on the board and underlined numerous times.

"And then came Sunnydale California, where the rules changed."

He turned back to the class and was pleased to find them hanging on his every word.

"You see, nine years ago, yours truly was involved in the big battle against the First Evil, a force so powerful there was seemingly no way to defeat it. Back then there was only one slayer—well technically there were two slayers but that was just like a little glitch in the system. Anyway, we found a way to unlock the power of the slayer so that everyone who could potentially be a slayer actually became one. So, instead of just one chosen girl with the power to fight evil, all the chosen girls had the power."

Andrew searched the class for the Spanish girl who'd asked the original question. She was near the back, so he had a little trouble making eye contact. He liked doing this; it was always a good opportunity to get a deeper, more individual mind dip, and since she asked the first question of the bunch he'd take this chance to see how she was dealing with the whole superhero thing. He couldn't remember her name at first but once he found her round, dark brown eyes he knew right away she was Natalia; one of the older girls in the class. Like the rest, she was nervous, frightened even. But he also felt a strength; lots of strength from her, and something else too. Something behind her eyes burning into him... mesmerizing; irresistible almost.

"Shortly after this battle, those of us who were left set out to find other girls like yourselves, other slayers. This place—the Slayer's Council—was built from the ashes of the old Watchers Council. Whereas the old council was a bunch of stuffy British guys trying to control the slayer, the new council is like a family; a home and a resource for the slayer. As I've said; you're all special. You're powerful, you have natural instincts that others don't have, and you have a unique, grand destiny... if you choose to follow it."

Though Andrew was addressing all the girls, he kept his eyes locked on Natalia, who matched the intensity of his gaze with her deep eyes and a hint of a smile. He was completely lost in those eyes; smoldering dark and beautiful, with a strength that seemed to be getting stronger by the moment. A few awkward seconds passed before he realized he'd stopped talking and was just standing at the front of the room staring at her. The normally composed Andrew Wells actually reddened a bit and turned around to place the chalk back on the board. Of all the years, all the incredibly attractive women he'd seen, never had a girl affected him like this.

"So you see" he said, recovering quickly. "Though there have been multiple slayers for nine years, it's just a blink of an eye in the slayer lineage. When there was only one slayer, she kinda didn't live long enough to ever find out just how long the power was good for, so in a lot of ways we're still learning about that. Yes, slayers have died in the past nine years, but all of them were killed in battle, with their powers at full charge. Right now we have over six hundred slayers here in London and around the world, some of them well into their thirties, and they all have slayer strength. Will it last forever? History says yes but right now, with the big change after Sunnydale, we just don't know."

Andrew eyed the clock on the wall once again; that was about the best answer the Spanish beauty was going to get. Time to wrap things up.

"Ok, well we're all out of time for today. It was nice to meet everyone; I'm very happy to be a part of your new and exciting lives and I'm looking forward to our classes together. As you learn more about the Slayer's Council and what it's like to be a part of all this I want you to remember one thing above all else. You're not here because you're a freak, or because you did something wrong. You're here because you're special. You're part of something bigger and more important than you could ever imagine. And with great power comes great responsibility. Don't ever forget it. Seeya tomorrow."

The slayers began to pack up their goods. Andrew happened to be looking at Natalia when she threw him another glance and a smile as she gathered her things. It caught him completely by surprise and for a second he thought he even felt a little mystical energy from her. Once again he found himself simply _caught up_ in her eyes, and then suddenly she was gone. In fact, the whole room was empty. He didn't even notice everyone leaving; he'd been _that_ caught up in her. Or at least he _thought_ he was that caught up in her...

"Andrew? Oh good you're still here."

A soft, familiar, accented voice nabbed his attention, and he turned to the classroom door to find Rupert Giles standing there, tweed suit hanging flawlessly from his shoulders. Andrew was still in somewhat of a daze though, and he suddenly found himself thinking back to Sunnydale and when he first met the ex-librarian/watcher. Aside from a few more wrinkles and a lot more gray hair the man was still as British as ever.

"Andrew... are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, hey Rupert," Andrew said finally, shaking off the remaining fog Natalia's pretty eyes had put him in. "I uh, well, just finishing up class here."

"Are you sure?"

"Well yeah, I mean, all the girls left already—"

"No no, I mean about you, being alright."

Andrew relaxed a little and let the tension from his encounter with Natalia slide away as he began organizing the papers on his desk.

"Yeah I'm fine. Just a little off from class is all. Something is definitely going on; these new slayers feel different than the others. Not quite, I dunno... like slayers. More like frightened girls."

Giles nodded slowly, accepting Andrew's explanation for his actions. Andrew though was a bit mystified by his own actions; why didn't he want to tell Giles about his brief but interesting encounters with Natalia?

"Yes," said Giles, continuing to nod. "It would seem the ailment affecting our established slayers is affecting the recently chosen as well. Given your experience with new slayers over the years I suppose a change in their dispositions would be quite a shock.. But that will all have to wait for right now, in fact we'll have to find a short term replacement for your class; we have an emergency situation that I need you on."

Andrew immediately halted his paper shuffling and gave all his astonished attention to Giles.

"A mission?" he said with no shortage of surprise and objection. "Now? But Rupert, I just started this class, I have young minds that are fresh from the fields of the ordinary that need proper shaping. I have virgin slayers who are wary of their own powers, frightened of the world they've been thrust into."

Giles sighed and rolled his eyes. In nine years Andrew had become one of the most intelligent, valuable members of the Slayer's council. His vast knowledge of languages was rivaled only by his knowledge of demons and his ability to control them. He'd become an outstanding spokesman and diplomat for the council; aside from his duty with new slayer orientation he'd become the council's first line of communication for just about every bureaucratic situation they faced. He'd even picked up quite a bit of magick thanks to Willow's tutelage and become a decent fighter in the process, but in nine years he'd somehow never really grown out of the adolescent dramatics he was so fond of. Giles wasn't even sure where these dramatics were coming from. Andrew was the council's number one desk jockey; he usually couldn't wait to get into the field.

"Well Andrew I'm sorry, but right now some things are more important." By this time Giles had entered the classroom and approached Andrew at his desk so he could better see the urgency on his face. "In fact, I need you to come with me right now; I've called a meeting in the conference hall. It's about Rona's unit."

There was coldness in Giles' voice that sucked all of Andrew's frustration right out of the room.

"Is she ok?" he asked. "Did she make it in yet?"

Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them with the hankerchief he always kept in his pocket.

"Come with me, I'll explain on the way."

Andrew didn't hesitate in heading for the door, leaving his pile of paperwork on the desk. He loved Rona; he loved all the original slayers from Sunnydale. And yet, as Giles filled him in on what he knew—or more accurately didn't know—Andrew found himself thinking less about her and more about Natalia.

He'd been _really_ looking forward to seeing her tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

A brisk Egyptian sandstorm tore at the ancient stone piles scattered around the Giza Plateau as it had for centuries; wind and sand slowly but deliberately erasing the magnificent, ancient structures that enthralled and mystified countless civilizations. The brutal, cleansing force of nature pounded all throughout the plateau, stripping the very life from some monuments while burying the rest in a sandy tomb. Despite the bright, midday sun, the great pyramids were shrouded in a brown veil of sand, forcing every living thing in the desert to seek shelter or face a sandblaster backed with 100 degree heat. Days like this were a testament to the strength of the pyramids, a nod to the ancient engineers and laborers who accomplished the impossible under impossible conditions. For thousands of years these vast pyramids withstood storms just like the one raging now; and though the elements had battered their walls, they succeeded in figuratively delivering their Pharaohs to immortality.

However, there was only one ancient pyramid in the Giza Plateau that actually _did_ deliver its inhabitants to immortality, and its walls were still as smooth as freshly cut stone.

"Our time draws near," spoke a thin, raspy voice out of the darkness, barely audible over the storm raging outside.

"It would seem as such," came another voice in something resembling a hissing, cracked whisper.

"Holy smokes you guys, that wind is _nasty_ out there! Makes you want to string up a slave girl to the temple, staple her eyelids open and watch the sand strip her eyeballs away."

Three individuals stepped from shadow into the flickering fire light of a stone chamber, and a dismayed silence ensued despite the angry sandstorm raging outside thecold walls. Two of them sported long, gray/white hair and thick, matching beards that attempted to hide smooth, pale gray skin. Pure black eyes were set deep into ghostly eye sockets that looked almost completely round; bony hands and arms extended from elaborate, renaissance robes of red and black silk, complemented by thin fingers wrapped with sparkling rings and jewels of similar colors.

"Heeth, must you insist on speaking so... human?"

The third individual looked to the other two, unsure of who had asked the question. Though his hair and eye color matched his companions, they shared little else. A white designer shirt and a pair of blue jeans covered a muscular build. Smooth, tan skin reflected the dim firelight of the chamber, and whereas the others looked lifeless, he was positively giddy at the thought of torture and at the same time visibly upset with his company.

"Ok... first of all, I _am_ human. So are you. Second, my name is Tango now, 'k?" Been that way since the eighties... the _ninteen_ eighties so get used to it. In fact, you two need new names; Rune and Acaine are so 15,000 years ago. I've got it; how about 'Keith' and 'Richard?' You know, kinda like Keith Richards from the Rolling Stones because let's face it; you two haven't aged well at all."

Acaine took a step closer to Heeth, eyes glowing orange as a small tremor of mystical anger shook the massive, magically invisible pyramid called Rah.

"You would be well as to respect the triumvirate," he seethed, speaking with his mind as well as his mouth.

"Oh please," returned Heeth nonchalantly. "Spare me the apocalyptic counsel. I think we know who has the power here. You two look like 10,000 year old walking corpses. You haven't left this temple since Cleopatra's rule. What good is immortality if you choose not to _live?_

"Infinite life allows for infinite time, infinite patience to wait for the right moment." This time it was Rune who spoke, eyes glowing similar to Acaine's but with less intensity. "You may be as immortal as we, but make no mistake of the power we command. You've wasted your energies on vanity and moral induldgence-"

"Wasted my power? I've been doing all the prep work here!"

Heeth's outburst brought forth a strong tremor of his own, causing dust and debris to stir in the broad, torchlit chamber. He waited for the dust to settle before continuing.

"While you two have been here 'preparing' for our coming, I've been the one out clearing the way. Don't forget, it was I who eliminated the Wolfram and Hart."

"And yet you couldn't eliminate the vampires..."

Once again, Heeth wasn't sure who spoke, but he wasn't going to let anything slide.

"Those two _vampires_ were being held in a level 001 dimension. If you'd have stuck your heads outside this tomb in the last few thousand years, you'd know the Wolf, Ram and Hart created that dimension for the strongest of enemies and the worst kind of torture. Whatever those vampires are, they were strong enough to survive it, and _that's_ why I kept them alive.I believe they can be of use to us."

"You presume to require assistance?"

Heeth's own eyes were now starting to glow, and a mystical tremor shook the ground yet again. The three had existed for thousands upon thousands of years, long outrunning the mortal coil which bound humans to a finite universe. And yet, even in such a span of time, patience was a skill Heeth never fully developed.

"I presume, you inept fool, to have as many options at our disposal as necessary. It is still possible for us to fail, and I intend to hold every ace."

"Hold every ace?" said Rune, who exchanged a confused look with Acaine.

Another human term I assume," he said, giving up on the meaning of Heeth's metaphor. "Regardless, we will not fail. Time as been our ally; the scales have tipped and the power of light is drawing to a close. Very soon now, there will be no force on this planet to stop us, and we can rightfully ascend to our destinies."

"Yeah yeah," said Heeth carelessly. "Whatever. When the time comes, rest assured, the triumvirate will eliminate the rest of the line and we will take our place as Gods of this planet once again. In the meantime, go back to building more pyramids or something; find some new followers to drain power from. Me, I'm going to go mess with these vampires a little more. Feed them some blood; see if I can actually get them to talk instead of the drooling babble they're doing now. And if I can't get anything useful from them, well hey, I think they actually have souls... that should make for a healthy power boost anyway. Kind of ironic if you think about it... sucking the soul from a Vampire. Think of it as bulking up the insurance policy."

Heeth could see in the faces of his triumvirate counterparts they had no idea what an insurance policy was. For some reason he took joy in their confusion as he walked between them and out the main chamber, suddenly very excited to conduct more experiments on his vampiric conquests from the great Wolfram and Hart. The two ensouled demons had proven quite surprising as vampires go, he was certain they could be very powerful weapons for their conquest. His mind was twisting in thought as he passed into darkness, and when only his silhouette was visible he stopped, turned around and asked one more question of his peers.

"By the way... aren't vampires supposed to burn up when sunlight hits them?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: For those not familiar with the V-22, a simple google search for V-22 Osprey with give you a whole host of images._

_Chapter 4_

A Bell/Boeing V-22 Osprey skirted over thecanopy of thick Brazilian foliage below, low enough at times for the occupants of the modest military transport to catch blurry views of the ground.

"I hate flying," yelled Andrew over the roar of the massive turboprop engines. "I have acrophobia!"

"Well, then you have nothing to be afraid of," noted Kennedy, strapped tight to the seat in front of him, "because we aren't flying that high!"

The brightest of stars were beginning to wink into existence in the clear evening sky as the few remaining rays of sun bounced from the olive drab skin of the odd looking, high-winged transport. Two bulbous engines with massive propellers were mounted to each wingtip, and at the pilot's command the engines could rotate skyward, allowing the aircraft to land like a helicopter. It wasn't often the Slayer's Council called in such equipment, but Giles had pulled some favors after Rona's last report ended in a desperate tone. Her group was the only slayer unit still in the field, and her situation had clearly gone from worse to catastrophic in a very short time. The only thing the council had to go on was Rona's last report, describing her unit as nearly wiped out and the attacking demons relentless, methodical killers, willing to wait hours or even days for just the right time to strike. Giles immediately mobilized the council and within two days the strike team was assembled, briefed, and launched.

The Osprey made a gentle, climbing left bank, and the 16 passengers inside finally got a look at their destination; a small clearing just wide enough for the aircraft to set down in. The rotating mechanisms on the engines kicked into gear, and the hastily assembled "retrieval team" onboard felt the tug of deceleration in their lap belts as the transport began the transition from fixed wing flight to rotor wing hover. In less than a minute the pilots had the Osprey on the ground, much to the dismay of the passengers in back who weren't expecting quite a rapid descent. It was a precarious position for the crew though, they were vulnerable on the ground so the plane would be there just long enough for the passengers to depart.

Kennedy was the first one up, charged and ready for action despite the nagging pain in her side. Giles had made every attempt to prevent her from leading the rescue mission; his instructions for her to remain in Cleveland went unheard, and when he saw her step off the plane behind Willow he knew the battle of wills was already lost. The resolve of the council was no match for Kennedy's stubborn demeanor, especially when it involved not just a single slayer in trouble but a whole unit. It also helped to have the most powerful Wiccan in the world on her side; an extra few days of mystical healing had made a big difference, but not big enough to be injury-free for the OP.

"OK people lets MOVE!"

The team leapt into action, loading up on gear, equipment and weapons as an exit ramp extended from the rear of the transport. The engines were still cranking, and the massive "prop-rotors" were pounding the area with ferocious winds and hellacious noise. It may have been a quick way in, but everyone knew the element of surprise was well and truly gone; anything with a cognitive function could hear, feel or sense this mechanical bird from miles away, so the slayers were on guard from step one as the last of the team hustled down the ramp. Kennedy remained inside, scanning the cargo hold to make sure none of the vital supplies were missed. When she was satisfied with the situation, she flashed a thumbs-up to the Loadmaster, who by this time was at the base of the ramp surveying the surroundings. She trotted past the camouflaged soldier, catching her own reflection in the dark visor that covered most of the trooper's face. Once she was clear of the plane, she turned to give the go signal.

But the Loadmaster was gone.

Kennedy strained to see inside the relatively small cargo hold, but the entire bay was clearly empty, as was the area around the aircraft. The cargo ramp began to close on its own, and despite the moist tropical heat a cold chill brushed Kennedy's neck.

Then all hell broke loose.

The other-worldly shrieks could be heard over the thundering of the massive propellers, and Kennedy made an instant transition from military commando to instinct-driven slayer as an ugly horde of wrinkly, pale-skinned who-knows-what swarmed at the team and the transport from both sides, ready to tear apart whatever they came across. She bolted to the transport, screaming for them to take off as she instinctively spun around one of the demons that came at her from the side, using its momentum to send the thing flying. The ramp had just about shut by the time Kennedy got there, and judging by the spooling sounds of the wingtip-mounted engines the pilots got the message one way or another. Still, she couldn't see the Loadmaster anywhere in the back; and she didn't think the soldier had enough time to reach the cockpit….

Another demon blindsided her from the left and they both went sprawling, landing along the right side of the plane as the prop wash from the V-22's vertically articulated engines pelted them both with foliage and debris. Still on her back, she kneed the creature in the side a couple times and threw it up against the body of the airplane. She rolled in the opposite direction to get away from it, but as she began to right herself she glimpsed a second wave of demons running towards her from the jungle just in _front_ of the plane. She glanced behind her; the demon she just fought was out cold but the other slayers were already engaged in their own battles. She stood her ground and steeled herself for the fight of her life, knowing she'd be alone in the battle and doubting her odds more by the second. The throbbing gash in her side was making itself known as well; it had yet to fully heal and even the minor scuffling had it screaming. Fighting off so many demons at full strength would've been difficult at best, but the pain from her wounds brought an unfamiliar dread to her soul. She wasn't at full strength; none of them were. And now fear was coming into the frenzy; real fear that she hadn't felt since that first ubervamp encounter back in Sunnydale.

Her paralyzing fear went to the next level when she detected even more movement off to her right. But this time the movement was mechanical; the pilots in the Osprey had initiated the tilt-rotor sequence and the engines on the wings were pivoting forward. For just a moment she forgot all about the demons and instead watched the big engine on the right wing slowly rotating down. It made no sense to her; the only way they could take off was straight up, and the propellers were so large they'd hit the ground if they were tilted forward while….

Kennedy's eyes lit with urgent realization as she figured out what the Osprey pilots were doing. She immediately turned tail and bolted towards the rest of the overwhelmed slayers, hoping to put enough distance between her and the unsuspecting cretins before the giant blades dropped into their path. She sent a mental thank you to the pilots, then immediately took it back when she felt the sticky remains of various demon bits pelting her back when they ran headlong into the blades. She couldn't help but smile though; the carnage was just the motivation she needed to snap the fear out of her.

"I command thee to worship at my feet, evil swine… OW!"

Andrew was sparring with a particularly foul, wrinkly demon that resembled a human sized monkey with bad skin. He'd managed to get a hand on the creature's misshapen head, but his attempted mental takeover only resulted in a swift kick to the shin and a right cross that connected with just enough force to send Andrew to the ground. He snapped back to his feet with little delay and met the creature head on with all the force he could summon, delivering a series of solid kicks to the creature's chest and midsection. Indeed he had spent too much time in London; his technique had grown sloppy and his blows did little more than just place the beast on the defensive. Andrew pulled back for a moment and attempted to refocus his attack but the creature was too quick; it came after him and delivered a devastating series of punches that had Andrew hard on his back once again. He remained there for just a moment, eyes closed in semi-consciousness, thoughts not focused on the noise around him or the pain within him, but on Natalia, the brand new slayer he'd left behind in London.

She'd been on his mind the entire trip, and now he could see her sitting in class, clear as ever, her deep brown eyes singing to him, broad smile wrapping him in warmth. Then she stood up, fear lighting her eyes. She was beckoning to him now, yearning for him to stand up and fight. Her lips didn't move, but Andrew didn't mind; he scanned every inch of them, crimson with a delicate fullness that beguiled the screaming urgency in her voice, and though he heard her words they held no meaning for him. She was as perfect a woman he'd ever known, and he wanted nothing more than to swim in her beauty, to become lost in it. He panned up to her thin nose, then to her lightly blushed cheeks. Perfect, all perfect. Every contour, every skin tone, there was nothing about her he wasn't infatuated with.

She was yelling to him now, warning him of the demon about to end his life, but her lips still did not move. He merely smiled back at her, feeling content to die as long as he could lose himself in her gaze just one more time. He brought his eyes back to hers, but instead of windows to heaven Andrew found solid black ovals, shrieking louder than any scream he'd ever heard and filled with a darkness that could've led to hell itself.

He was back on his feet without even realizing it, unknown power forming the guttural scream that came from somewhere deep within. A series of lightning quick lefts and rights sent the attacking creature reeling backward, and his spinning roundhouse kick connected with a force similar to that of a slayer. It was difficult to tell who was more surprised by the move, the demon, Andrew or Kennedy, who happened to catch the now bloodied mass in her arms while rushing to the rescue. She snapped the wrinkled demon's neck with a quick twist and threw the body to the side, exchanging looks of confusion and amazement with Andrew before each was swarmed with more of the mystery monsters.

"We need to push harder!" yelled Willow to a couple of the witches in the group. Their plan was to help offset the lost slayer strength with a mystical endowment of power, but the team had been caught off guard and they were having trouble focusing. She was tempted to scrap the idea altogether and just go hand to hand herself; all six witches on the mission had been trained both physically and magically to handle such situations, but she figured the combined energies of at least some of them could be better used to bump the abilities of the natural-born demon hunters, and with the amount of baddies in the area the weakened slayers needed every bit of power they could get. Her small troop was split up already, and she figured a large group of girls locked in a trance would be too easy a target for the demons, but three of them may stand a chance with some slayer protection.

Willow locked hands with her sisters-in-arms, red-headed Cecila on her left and diminutive Katrya on her right. Both women had been part of the council for years and were amazingly powerful in their own right; they'd also worked closely with Willow on the design of this spell—which they'd created from scratch for this occasion—and she trusted them implicitly. But the weakened slayers were struggling to keep the danger from their circle, and the trio had to redouble their efforts to mentally distance themselves from the chaos. Willow's mind finally began to sort out the sounds of battle, fading it all away until it was replaced only with the combined heartbeats of the three witches. It was time.

"Dito, locupletatus, vox, nostrum ut vestry," spoke Willow evenly. Despite the violence surrounding them all, her voice was a beacon of tempered nerves and astounding strength.

"From our depths to yours, we will show you how. Strength for the chosen, endow the endowed."

Nothing.

For endless seconds the team waited, hands locked, eyes wide in a controlled urgency as the surrounding demons began to penetrate the line of slayers defending them. Finally, Willow made the call.

"It's not working," she yelled desperately. "Weapons ready for hand to—ohhHHHH…."

She had only a moment's reprieve before the worst pain she'd ever known engulfed her entire body. It burned from the inside out and kept burning, over and over, finally giving way to a debilitating weakness that hurt even worse. She felt the grip of her two companions tighten then give way, and then all three of them doubled over in semi-consciousness as the sounds of the battle filled their heads.

And then the panic set in.

It overwhelmed her completely, easily eclipsing the physical pain she'd felt moments before. The panic was irrational and unyielding; it invaded her psyche and flooded her soul, leaving her trapped in a nightmare where she had no power, no control, and no hope of ever escaping the torment. The panic came in continuous waves, each one stronger than the previous, and it combined with a paralyzing fear that threatened to destroy her sanity. Threatened to… but she still had enough wit to understand the huge error she'd made.

There was no way to stop the spell.

That realization brought on a flood of sickening fear worse than anything previous. The spell would keep going, draining and draining the three witches until the power needed to recharge the nearby slayers was taken. With six of the most powerful witches in the world she never considered the need for an off switch, but only three performed the spell.

And now it was draining the life from them.

Willow managed to hold on for a few seconds more, using the last bit of life force she had to open her eyes, and in those waning moments of consciousness she cried for Ceclia and Katyra, their ghostly faces frozen in a pale, terrified, helpless stare as the demons finally broke through the line of battered slayers.


	5. Chapter 5

The monkey horde sensed victory, and they surrounded the weakened slayers with an excitement fueled by pure blood lust. The demons kept coming in waves, and they'd successfully divided the warriors into smaller groups they could easily overwhelm. Some of the girls were already down, balled up in protective tucks while the vicious creatures pressed without mercy. The ones still on their feet has transitioned to defensive stances, trying to protect the ones who'd fallen, and for every punch or kick that connected, they received at least twice as many in return.

Kennedy took a hard hit to her still-healing midsection but stood fast as the line of women warriors toppled around her. She was on the other side of the clearing, surrounded by bad guys who were dishing out far more punishment than they were taking. She took another hard hit to her battered midriff but stood fast and returned the punch, sending one of the attackers far back enough for her to see to where most of the others were fighting, but the news wasn't good.

The slayers were starting to fall.

She tried to blast through the opening she'd made, but another biting blow caught her in the back before she could get through. She arched forward, screaming in pain but still managed to spin back, catching her attacker with a backhand punch. The move exposed her good side to a third demon though, and it gashed a deep, crippling wound that brought her down, but not before she swept the legs of her attacker, sending the creature to the ground as well.

Unfortunately, the damage was done.

Bleeding and broken, Kennedy tried to will herself up, but the sounds of the battle were starting to fade. Slayers were on the ground all around her, every bit as battered as she was. They were the best fighters on the council, veterans all, but it wasn't enough. She looked left and right… Mindy, Sarah, Elena, Naru, fierce fighters by the best standards; they too were grounded and bleeding, fighting for breath while the kicks and slashes kept coming. The other slayers weren't fairing any better… Anne, Silvia, and Tabbi were barely visible in a mob of the gruesome monkeys, and Kennedy hadn't seen Wanda since the attack first began. All around the clearing the battle was being lost, and the paralyzing fear Kennedy felt earlier was swarming back to her. Their only hope was with the 6 witches and their plan to tap some magic for the slayers.

And then, above the shrieking demons, the battle cries of slayers, the thunderous noise of the departing Osprey; above all the noises of battle she heard a single, terrible, soul-piercing scream.

It was Willow.

It was cry of death, a supernatural scream that tore into Kennedy like an arrow of ice, leaving a gaping, mortal wound in her heart. An infinite number of horrific images flooded her mind in a single moment, and the physical pain from her injuries became nothing next to the pain of losing the woman she still loved.

She battled against everything and somehow managed to rise once more, determined to find Willow one way or another, but still the demons charged her. One of the creatures blindsided her with a vicious kick that snapped ribs on contact, sending her halfway across the clearing and into the gruesome pile of shredded demons left from the Osprey's prop-rotor attack. She was down for the count; the world around her was fading away and she felt cold despite the tropical climate and warm, sticky remains surrounding her. She had nothing left, and though she struggled to remain conscious, she knew the darkness would fall in a matter of moments.

But instead of darkness, there came a light.

Her eyes went wide; she gasped involuntarily and sucked in a deep, powerful breath that she literally felt through her entire body, tingling and surging like warm electricity, pulsing and crackling but not painful. The sensation went straight to her soul, mending wounds, destroying fear and filling her with a strength she'd never experienced. Yet it was familiar; she'd had a similar sensation 9 years ago, standing on the edge of an impossibly-vast abyss inside the Sunnydale Hellmouth, staring thousands of primordial vampires in the face and suddenly knowing she had the power to kill every last one of them.

_Willow_, she thought, holding the Wicca's smiling image at the front of her mind for an infinite moment. She'd done it. There was no pain. No fear. No despair. Just love.

And power. _Serious_ power.

Kennedy rejoined the fight with a speed and strength never known to a slayer before. So swift were her reactions that the monkey demons seemed to be in slow motion, and she went through them one by one, fists ablaze, feet in the air more often than not. Swings, kicks, flips, snaps; first one, then two then several creatures fell to the ground. And it wasn't just her; every single slayer was up and charging, laying waste to any creature who dared to fight back. Even Andrew was attacking with a vengeance despite a nasty-looking gash on his head, and what had been a near-slaughter for the pack of demons very quickly turned into a complete slayer romp the likes of which had never been seen. It was over in less than a minute; 31 broken, torn, lifeless demon bodies littered the clearing where the group had set down, with 9 slayers reveling in their miraculous return to power.

That's when Kennedy saw Willow and the others, lying motionless on the ground.

Misa, Jien-Li and Tashu, the other half of the wiccan team, were already tending to their fallen sisters when she arrived. Kennedy dropped to her knees and took Willow's hand; it was ice cold and she was completely unresponsive. She was deathly pale, eyes sunken, lips blue. Her companions had the same, lifeless look to them. Kennedy screamed for Willow to wake up, shook her, pulled her up so she was sitting, and lifted an eyelid.

Nothing.

She wasn't breathing, had no pulse. None of them did. Kennedy started CPR. Other slayers joined in on Katrya and Cecilia. The other witches were chanting something unrecognizable, hands locked together. Every person in the group had gathered in a tight circle around them; they now understood what had happened and where their sudden power boost came from, and each was ready to give back that power—and their own lives—to save their comrades.

Nothing.

Kennedy was breaking down, begging Willow to wake up, trying force her words to make a connection in Willow's mind. She kissed her, held her, tried to will her awake. She begged Willow to draw power from her, like she'd done so many years ago in Sunnydale. She yelled at the other witches, ordering them to take the power from her. They were trying, but Willow had been the one at the center of the spell. It was like trying to find a light switch in a dark, unfamiliar room; they knew what to do, they just didn't know where to look.

Nothing.

Precious minutes had now passed, and Kennedy went back to CPR, a little more violent this time. Her mind was focused on Willow; simultaneously holding onto hope she would wake up and fearing that she was lost forever. Equal attention was being given to Katrya and Cecilia; the slayers were rallied around them, begging life to return and looking for any encouraging sign. The surviving witches were going through every spell they could think of, using every item they had, reaching out to covens around the world. They were pleading with Gaia, offering themselves to the Goddess in place of their sisters. For what seemed like years the group stayed with the drained, lifeless witches, refusing to give up, but they were powerless to keep the reality of the situation from finally sinking in.

One by one they stopped; first the slayers, then the witches. Kennedy held on the longest, refusing to let go of Willow despite the horror inside, filling her heart and soul with the black emptiness that comes with death. It had really happened. Katrya was dead. Cecilia was dead. And so was Willow. After all the years, all the adventures, she'd given so much to the slayers, and to her. Now Kennedy had lost her for good.

She was dead.

A cold silence befell the group despite the tropical heat, and their sudden victory turned into their darkest hour. It was Kennedy who finally made the call to continue, knowing that they needed to get moving before darkness made it impossible. She stayed by Willow's side, holding her hand while the team responded to her order to sound off, and despite the battering they'd taken, everyone was well enough to continue. The time had come to let go, to find Rona and the others and get everyone back home, and she'd just about worked up the courage to say goodbye to Willow forever when she realized someone hadn't reported in.

It was Andrew.


End file.
